I'm Romy. I am 31 years old and I have been married to Jim for over a year now. We have been trying to get pregnant for just as long. Jim is stronger than I am most days and won't ever accept that we may never have children. You see I am what they call "infertile"... Argh, that word reeks with indifference and clings to the back of my throat like molasses on a cold winter day. It seems so finite and ominous all in the same breath.
The irony is I thought I never really wanted children. As the oldest of 7, I had always felt I had assisted in enough children's lives to last a lifetime. My mother loves children and had a talent for raising us, but I liked to tell myself I didn't have that talent. In addition, I never thought or wondered if I could have kids. Fertility is a dominate trait in my family, therefore, I just naturally assumed I'd have my share one day.
Then at 16 I was diagnosed with PCOS, aka: Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. Medicine Net's definition: PCOS is a condition in women characterized by irregular or no menstrual periods, acne, obesity, and excess hair growth. At the time I was the image of physical fitness. Apart from the absence of menses and acne, I had no other symptoms. In retrospect, 16 is a bit young to be concerned with fertility, so, I let it shape my life. I figured God didn't want me to have kids anyway. Right?
What is strange is that I spent all my life refusing to accept my circumstances and now I realize I hadn't even tried to fight. That is until now...